


Shrike

by ridgeline



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Enemies, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24570457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridgeline/pseuds/ridgeline
Summary: Only one survivor from the Scoia’tael Reconnaissance unit managed to escape from the siege.
Relationships: Iorveth/Vernon Roche
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Shrike

**Author's Note:**

> Since Iorveth talked to Geralt about how Roche's first mission left him great depression in game, I was curious about what it would be like. 
> 
> Huge thx for my beta, DJ and 69. Without your help, I'll surely die like a mne.

Only one survivor from the Scoia’tael Reconnaissance unit managed to escape from the siege.

Iorveth received the message four days later when the recruit finally reached base camp. He was barely breathing, covered in his and other commandos' blood. It's hard to tell who he was with that bloody half-broken face he had left. Caerwyn identified him. He was one of the three young recruits, joined the Scoia’tael only three months ago. He left camp with his unit three days ago, since then no one had seen them. 

It seemed that he only had one mission left to finish and he got it done.

The recruit died two hours later, no medicine could fix that kind of damage. With that long and deep wound underneath his ribs, it was a miracle he survived that long. And followed his message, Iorveth and a whole bowman unit found the massacre's location. 

Or what's left of it.

Judging by traces on the ground, the unit must have walked straight into the trap. A good one. It seemed that the hunters set the ambush there for more than three days. The unit fought back, but enemies cut them down one by one. All the blood and signs of battle on the ground remained untouched, like a rough but detailed drawing: this part was the beginning, those dried blood pools were where the soldiers being murdered; this was where the battle ended. Someone left the scene in complete preservation. Someone wanted them - wanted Iorveth to see this, to understand it. A cruel and calm man was there, planned it all.

_You see,_ a cold voice echoed in Iorveth's ears, from a dh'oine he hasn't meet. _This was my work. Nice to meet you, Commander._

This hit him harder than he thought.

After the search, they finally reached the end of the glade. All the soldiers were here, impaled on the poles, hung in the air, pale, rotten. All dead, all headless. 

A soldier took a deep breath behind Iorveth. They weren't easy to feel nauseated, not anymore. 

"Put them down, " Said Iorveth in a dead calm tone, "Carry them out of here."

"But their heads -" Cried Pryderi.

"We will never found them, do not bother, " Answered Iorveth, face hardened, "Cut down those poles too. Move!"

They finished the job in fifteen minutes. There's no need to hurry, the enemies wouldn't come back. But still, can't risk it.

And it gave them something to do.

After leaving the glade, Iorveth commanded the unit to bury the bodies at a hideout as usual, left a mark on the map. Another two hours of work, everyone was exhausted and drowned in fury. After that, someone finally spoke, quietly.

"Sick son of a whore," He murmured, "He wanted us to see."

_To see, and to terrorize; to sicken and confuse them with that kind of cruelty._ Thought Iorveth, with some kind of sick curiosity.

Those thoughts had left a rotten taste in his mouth.

Before the recruit died, he managed to give Iorveth the name of the enemies that ambushed them. The Blue Stripes, Temeria's special force. The old enemy, and their new Commander.

Whoreson must have pulled the dying recruit aside, made sure he witnessed and memorized everything: the slaughter of his commandos, the humiliation for being so helpless, and finally, the fear for his own life.

So he had to run, to flee, to save other commandos who weren't there. 

Iorveth wiped off the blood and mud on his face with his arm. This hideout now smelled like death, like a lot of other places deep in the forest.

He gathered his squad, took them back to base camp, knowing he had to explain to the others about what happened. Which wasn't new to him.

On the long road back, Iorveth recalled the massacre in his mind. He memorized the details of the poles and the bodies hung on them. It's a lot of hard work, like shrikes - the butcher's bird - they prefer to impale their victims on the sticks, to let the world knew they were here.

_It's something you can't easily forget,_ Iorveth give the dh'oine that. He remembered that cold feeling and knew it will live with him, for a long time. 

He needed to give the whoreson a face, and a name. Then took them both from that dh'oine.

Because even the cruelest bird can sing.

And this Commander will sing sweetly, for sure.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> And I couldn't get over the fact that Roche is really small. You know, small but _deadly._ Shrike then!


End file.
